


Out of the Cold

by bjfic_archivist



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-05-04
Updated: 2005-11-25
Packaged: 2018-12-27 16:04:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12084459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjfic_archivist/pseuds/bjfic_archivist
Summary: On a cold, rainy morning Brian finds his future huddled in a phone booth. Feedback greatly appreciated.Previous chapters reworked. New chapter added.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

Authors' Note: Originally entitled "The Boredom Fic" since neither of us have lives and have been bored out of our minds recently as a result of not being able to obsessively check for postings here at BJFic.net :)

* * *

The rain pounded a steady staccato against the living room windows, the clear liquid visible as it ran down the glass not only because of its heaviness, but because of the slight early-morning light that was attempting to peek out from behind the storm clouds.

Brian typically hated early mornings, especially when it rained, but for some reason the weather this morning matched his mood. Gathering his cup of coffee in one hand, and his cigarette and lighter in the other, he made his way from the kitchen to the living room, coming to a stop by the windows. The beauty of a cold, rainy, and altogether miserable day was that it gave him an excuse to stay home on a Saturday. 

He took a sip of his coffee, then leaned forward and pressed his forehead against the cool glass of the window. Closing his eyes, he allowed the coldness to seep into his skin while the steady rain thumped its way into his mind, in much the same way a good techno beat made its way through the floor and coursed through his body at Babylon.

Turning his head slightly, and allowing his cheek to come into contact with the glass, he sighed, then slowly opened his eyes. It took a moment for his eyes to focus - he'd been out until nearly three, and it was now just after seven - but as he peered through the rain he found himself looking at a young man huddled inside the solitary phone booth across the street.

He took another sip of his coffee, then studied the rain for a moment. Sure, it was early April, but it was still freezing out. Sighing once again, he set his cup and cigarettes on the coffee table and made his way toward his bedroom in search of a shirt and a pair of shoes he wouldn't mind getting soaked. 

After a few minute's hunt, Brian re-emerged from behind the glass panels that surrounded the bedroom, sneakers haphazardly tied, pulling a worn white T-shirt over his head. Half of the remaining coffee was quickly sipped while pausing at the counter on his way to the door.

The heavy metal door slid open with unusual smoothness, barely making a sound as it did so, but still closed with a reassuring bang. Opting for the healthier alternative, Brian bypassed the elevator and jogged down the stairs leading to the wet morning weather.

Cursing himself for not grabbing a jacket on his way out, Brian squinted at the phone booth, wiping heavy drops of rain as they pelted his face. A mop of light hair could be seen peeking from under a jacket tightly wrapped around a small torso, a pair of pale hands hugging jean-clad legs. Brian jogged across the street, the chilliness of the now soaked t-shirt seeping under his skin. Slowing down, he walked to the slightly vandalized phone booth and knocked on the scratched glass wall.

The blond head stirred almost imperceptibly but no other movement was made.

Brian crouched down beside the glass and knocked again. When there was no further response he stood and opened the door, quickly stepping inside, then once again blocking out the rain.

"It's fucking freezing out." He waited another moment and still the blond said nothing. "You know, typically a conversation consists of both parties speaking. So that means if I ask a question, you should probably either answer it or tell me to fuck off. Either is fine. So what the fuck are you doing out here?"

"Fuck off." The words were little more than a whisper, further muffled as the young man's head was resting on his jean-clad knees.

"Hm, yeah, now try saying that with conviction." The older man crouched down once again so that he was facing the huddled figure. "Hey." His voice softened slightly. "You okay?"

"I thought you accepted 'fuck off' as an acceptable part of conversation?"

Brian grinned slightly, but suddenly sobered as the younger man raised his head. The blond's pale skin was tinted pink, his eyes swollen and barely open, and he'd begun shaking almost imperceptibly. Brian began to reach forward, stopping when the younger man suddenly tensed.

"You look like shit." He offered a slight lopsided grin. I'm Brian, by the way."

"Justin."

"Good, now that introductions are over, maybe you'll be a bit more cooperative." He reached forward again, letting the back of his fingers brush against Justin's cheek, then his forehead. "You know you've got a fucking fever, right?" He studied the blond for a moment, then lightly cupped his chin and raised the younger man's head even more until their eyes met. He noted once again the way Justin's eyes barely opened. "I should take you to the hospital."

 

"No."

"Well, then, what do you propose to do about this situation?" Without realizing he was doing it, Brian let his fingers drift into Justin's hair, lightly brushing the damp strands away from his forehead. When the younger man didn't answer Brian sighed. "Look, I know you're not a kid . . . you're probably older than you look . . . and I'm not going to tell you what to do, because we don't even know each other, and even if we did it's not my place to tell you what to do with your life. But if you don't go someplace warm and dry you're going to end up with pneumonia."

"Not going to the hospital." Justin leaned forward and wrapped his arms around his legs and rested his head against his knees once again, his eyes closing as he did so.

"Fine, then I'm taking you home."

"Not going home, either."

"I wasn't talking about _your_ home. If you could go there, then I'm sure you'd have gone already." He let his fingers trail from Justin's hair to the back of his neck. "I meant my place. I'm soaked, freezing, and I could use a hot shower. I'm sure you could, too."

"Don't even know you."

"I don't know you, either. But sitting in this phone booth while sick isn't exactly an ideal situation."

Brian could see the blond's forehead crinkle as his eyebrows knit together in a frown. "Why do you care?" Justin asked in a whisper, his lips moving against rough fabric.

Having no answer, Brian just slid his fingers under the young man's chin and lifted his face until the blurry eyes were looking at him again. "Hey, you wouldn't want your death on my conscience, now would you?"

Justin gave him a dim smile. Pale hands unwrapped from around a pair of knees, then pressed against the glass walls as the blond attempted to stand up in the tight confines of the phone booth. 

Brian pushed the door open and stepped outside in the rain to give Justin more room to move. The malicious downpour matted his hair against his scalp and turned the asphalt into a treacherous slip and slide as their sneakers touched cement. 

Brian caught Justin by the arm as the blond staggered stepping out the phone booth, then threw his arm around the shoulders of the shivering form, steering them both towards the door on the other side of the street.

Relieved to be back inside and out of the cold heavy rain, Brian sighed. Noticing Justin leaning against the wall beside the elevator his teeth chattering, Brian quickly pulled up the wooden grate. He stepped inside tugging the blond beside him, pushed the grate back down and pushed the button for the top floor.

Soon they were out the elevator and in the loft, Brian already pulling off his squeaking sneakers. He helped Justin take off his and left both pairs of shoes forming a puddle by the door. Noticing the blond's blue-tinged lips and shaky movements, he swiftly gathered him in his arms.

"Cold," Justin whispered, his breath warm against Brian's neck.

"Yeah, that's obvious. Somehow I don't think a cup of tea and a warm bed's gonna do it for you." He carried Justin into the bathroom and carefully set him on the closed toilet.

"Tired."

"Yeah, I know. Don't fall asleep yet, though, okay?"

"Brian," he whispered, leaning forward and reaching for the older man, wrapping his arms around Brian's waist and resting his head against his taut stomach as he let his eyes close.

"I'm not going anywhere." He gently cupped Justin's cheek, allowing his thumb to pass lightly over the boy's warm skin. Slipping his arms under Justin's, he pulled the younger man back up and slowly walked him over to the shower. He smiled slightly as Justin's arms tightened around his waist as he leaned over to turn on the shower. He kept the water lukewarm, knowing that turning it on too high would cause Justin's skin to burn.

"You need to get undressed and get in the shower. It'll warm you up faster," Brian advised as he released the younger man, then stepped back slightly. "I'll be in the other room."

"No." Reaching forward, Justin latched onto the wet hem of Brian's shirt. "Stay."

"Justin--."

"I'm not . . . I'm not going to, like, grope you or anything," he mumbled, refusing to meet Brian's eyes.

"You're too out of it to grope me even if you wanted to."

"Wouldn't mind it," he muttered. His eyes suddenly grew wide as he realized he had spoken aloud. "Fuck! Shit! I'm sorry! I swear I didn't mean that. Can we just blame that on the fever?" He ran a pale, slightly shaking hand over his face and lightly pinched the bridge of his nose in an attempt to alleviate the headache that had made itself at home in his head over the last few days.

"Hm . . . well, groping's not out of the realm of possibility, though there's no way in hell it's happening until you're feeling better." Brian quickly divested Justin of his jean jacket, then slid his hands under his shirt just long enough to pull the sopping material over his head. "So I take it there's no objection to me joining you in the shower, then?" He quirked an eyebrow at the younger man, then set about unbuttoning his jeans.

"Shower with people a lot?"

"It's rare that anyone is permitted in my shower." Brian grinned, then helped Justin step out of his jeans. Once he was sure Justin was okay standing by himself for a moment, he quickly stripped off his own wet clothes, then opened the shower door and helped the younger man inside.

For several long minutes they stood under the spray, arms around each other's waists, the warm drops thawing their skin. Gradually Justin's shaking began to subside and his limbs grew heavier as sleep encroached.

"Justin?"

"Hm?" He opened his eyes slightly and looked up at Brian, taking in the way his wet hair stuck to his forehead, droplets of water clinging to eyelashes surrounding gold-flecked eyes. 

"Still tired?"

"Yeah."

"Come on, you should get some sleep." He turned off the water, then helped steady the younger man as he stepped out of the shower. Grabbing a towel, he helped Justin dry off, then quickly dried himself as well, before leading the blond into the bedroom. Once Justin was settled under the duvet Brian walked around the bed and climbed in.

"Brian? Thanks." Justin shifted closer until their skin touched, a slight smile gracing his lips when he felt Brian slide even closer, their legs tangling together in the process.

Brian let his hands drift down Justin's back, enjoying the feel of the smooth skin beneath his fingertips, and scratchy stubble against his chest. Best not to think about how good it felt to hold the younger man, to feel both his hardness and softness all at once, Brian thought, as he lowered his head slightly, his cheek resting against Justin's soft hair.


	2. Out of the Cold

Brian awoke to the feel of something heavy and warm on his chest. Cracking his eyes open against the invading post-rainstorm sunlight, he found himself focusing on Justin. The other man had shifted slightly in his sleep, one arm snaking its way around Brian's waist as he lay halfway across him, his face now buried in the space between Brian's neck and his right shoulder.

He lightly touched the blond's forehead, noting that his fever was still raging, then slowly and gently untangled himself from the other man before slipping out of bed. After a quick visit to the bathroom, he pulled on a pair of jeans and made his way to the kitchen to survey the contents of his fridge. Beer, poppers, a loaf of bread, certainly nothing for someone who was sick.

Gazing around for a moment, his eyes fell across the coffee maker. One more cup and he'd be in the land of the living. He quickly got the machine started, then wandered over to his desk and picked up the phone.

***

He couldn't quite decipher what it was that woke him. The unfamiliar combination of cigarette smoke, cologne and some unique pleasurable scent, or the feel of soft, smooth linen against his skin. He wrapped himself tighter in the sheet as he slightly opened his eyes and buried his nose into a warm pillow.

Warm. He hadn't been warm for days on his journey towards the unknown, and it was comforting to finally be able to wake up surrounded by it, even though it was in a strange bed, naked.

Justin's eyes widened as he quickly ran his hands down his body to confirm this frightening fact, and he bolted up in the bed. His head protested the sudden movement, and he was forced to sink back down on the plush mattress. He pressed his palm against his forehead and feeling the warmth radiating off it, groaned.

A quiet conversation, then a bang followed by footsteps alerted Justin to another presence. His body tensed as he listened to an array of other sounds, footsteps again following, this time apparently headed towards the bedroom where Justin lay listening to the activity in the other room.

Justin closed his eyes as he heard the footsteps enter the room and feigned sleep. He heard a quiet chuckle as a hand touched his arm.

"You're way too tense to be asleep, Justin, so stop pretending."

The blond cracked open his left eye and carefully peered at the man crouched next to the bed. Seeing the man's face, the events of the early morning came rushing back, and he let out a relieved sigh. "Brian," he acknowledged the brunet beside him and eyed the bowl the man was holding in his hands.

"Chicken soup," the brunet explained, looking somewhat embarrassed. "I had them deliver some. Since you're sick and all, and my fridge didn't quite provide the, umm, necessary ingredients . . ." he trailed off with a lopsided grin and offered Justin the steaming bowl.

Justin smiled his thanks and grabbed the spoon. He stirred the soup for a moment, studying the small chunks of chicken and carrot as they floated among the noodles.

"Well, I'm going to try and get some work done," Brian remarked, turning and heading toward the stairs leading from the bedroom to the rest of the loft. "Give a shout when you're done."

"Okay." The blond watched the taller man as he began descending the steps. "Brian?"He waited until the other man turned slightly and arched an eyebrow. "Thanks."

***

Justin stood and slipped on the pair of sweatpants he had found folded on the end of the bed. Empty bowl in one hand, he slowly made his way over to the steps, fighting the dizziness that threatened to send him tumbling. He paused at the top of the steps for a moment and blinked several times. Why was it that a fever always made him see double?

"You should be in bed."

Justin looked up to find Brian staring intently at him from his desk. The older man suddenly sighed, then stood and crossed the room until he was standing at the bottom of the steps.

"Well?"

"Thanks for the sweatpants."

"Nice try. Get your ass in bed."Brian reached forward and took the bowl, his eyes fixed on the younger man's.

"But--."

"Bed."

Justin grimaced, then sighed and made his way back to the large platform bed that dominated the center of the room. Deciding to leave the pants on, he settled atop the duvet, propped himself against the pillows, and closed his eyes.

It seemed like lately all he did was wait around . . . wait for the right time to talk to his parents, wait for their reaction, wait for Daphne and Molly to sneak some of his stuff out of the house, wait for the rain to stop . . .

He felt the bed dip slightly and, cracking his eyes open a bit and looking to his right, he found Brian lying in almost the exact same position. It was strange that he should be so comfortable with this man, a man much older than himself, a man he knew nothing about other than that he was nice enough to let him come in out of the cold April rain.

"I figured you might be bored in here and that you might like some company. But don't tell anyone - I've got a reputation to uphold."

"And what kind of reputation is that?"

"Ah, you know . . . cold-hearted, thoughtless asshole. Arrogant. Narcissistic. Take your pick. Any adjective with a negative connotation."

"Well, you're being nice enough to me, so 'll reserve my judgment." Justin studied him for a moment, letting his blurry eyes drift over Brian's features. "So why do people think you're like that? I mean . . . there must be a reason."

"You're a talker, aren't you? I bet that as soon as you've finished fucking, you talk the other guy's ear off." The older man laughed softly, then rolled onto his side, propping his head up with one hand, and studied the blond as the younger man's skin turned from feverish pink to embarrassed pink.

"You never answered my question," Justin replied, bringing his thumb to his lips and beginning to chew on his nail.

"Because some questions _can't_ be answered. Or _shouldn't_ be."

"Or maybe you just don't know how to answer it."

"Maybe that, too." Brian let his gaze travel down Justin's pale chest for a moment before his eyes met the younger man's watery blue ones again. "Speaking of maybes, maybe I should run out and get you something for your fever. You'll feel a whole hell of a lot better once it breaks."

"No Tylenol. Allergic."

"No one's allergic to Tylenol."

"I beg to differ. My mom gave me some when I was four and my throat started to close up. I was in the hospital for two days. So no Tylenol for me." He looked at Brian for a moment, then reached for him, the pads of his fingers finding the smooth back of the other man's hand. "Fucking fever. Getting tired again."

"That's what fevers do." Brian reached over and smoothed Justin's sweat-dampened hair away from his forehead. "I'll wait until you fall asleep, then run to the store, okay?"

"'Kay. Brian?" Justin's words were little more than a whisper.

"Hm?"

"Why are you letting me stay?"

"I don't know," Brian replied, his voice soft as he watched Justin drift into unconsciousness. He really couldn't say why, honestly. He'd never been one to care for anyone beyond a quick fuck, and he'd certainly never willingly spent his time playing nursemaid to anyone who was sick, with the possible exception of Michael or Vic . . . so what was he doing, now, with a kid - well, a teenager, anyway - sick in his bed, and him about to run out for cold medicine?

***

Justin groaned as the slamming of the loft door awoke him and reactivated the headache that had gone away just a short time earlier. Grabbing a pillow, he quickly covered his head in an attempt to block out all the noise coming from the kitchen. Footsteps pounded up the steps into the bedroom a moment later, then stopped suddenly before starting again, making their way to Justin's side.

The pillow was roughly yanked away from his head as a shrill voice demanded, "Who the fuck are you?"

The pounding in his head kicked up a notch at the loud voice, and he moaned. "Gimme back the pillow and leave me alone, and for God's sake stop yelling."

The pillow got thrown down on the bedspread. Justin sighed and opened his eyes. A short black-haired man with brown eyes was standing beside the bed with an angry look on his face. They stared at each other for a long minute before a hand grabbed Justin's arm and tried to pull him off the bed. "Come on, up and out. Brian'll be so pissed that you're still here."

Justin resisted and held on to the blue sheets the best he could. "What the fuck're ya doin'?" he mumbled and slapped the hand to get it off him.

"Come on! He never lets tricks stay over, get up!"

The other man pulled harder on Justin's arm, and the blond grimaced. "Leggo, you idiot!" he shouted weakly.

Justin used all his strength in his next yank to free himself. He fell down on his back on the bed with the other man following, his head ending up at the blond's crotch.

"And I was only away for fifteen minutes."

A black and a blond head rose up simultaneously to see Brian standing on the stairs with a bemused smile on his face.


	3. Out of the Cold

Brian took in Justin's watery eyes and flushed face. He dropped the bag he'd been carrying onto the bed at the younger man's side, then gently cupped Justin's cheek. "Christ! You're hotter than you were when I left!"

"Cold." His statement was punctuated as he began shivering.

"Yeah, I see that. Okay, we're going to the hospital."

"No."

"Stop with the fucking protest. I don't really see how you have many other options at this point."

"Brian."

The hazel-eyed man looked up at his best friend, taking in the other man's confusion. "Mikey, do me a favor . . . go get the Jeep from the parking garage and bring it around front." He tossed him his keys. "We'll be down in a couple minutes." He watched as Michael trudged down the stairs, grumbling the entire way, then returned his attention to Justin. "Okay, time to get dressed."

***

The doctors had refused to allow Brian to be with Justin as he was being examined, so he was instead sitting in the waiting room, Michael at his side.

"So are you finally gonna tell me what the fuck is going on?" the shorter man demanded, turning to look at Brian.

"It's not really any of your business, Mikey." Standing, Brian began to pace around the waiting room, eventually coming to a stop by the windows that offered a view of downtown Pittsburgh. "Fuck this. I need to find out how he is."

***

Brian stood outside Justin's hospital room, waiting for the doctor to finish his examination of the younger man. Once the curtains surrounding the bed were pulled back, he immediately pushed the door open and stepped inside, much to the accompanying nurse's surprise.

"Excuse me, sir, but you can't just come in here."

"I don't think your patient would object," he replied, as he took in Justin's weak smile. He sidestepped the nurse and made his way over to the younger man's bedside. "So what's the word?"

"Almost, but not quite, pneumonia."

"Meaning?"

"Lots of prescriptions and bed rest, apparently," Justin replied as the nurse once again stepped over to his bed to check his IV's. He smiled as Brian sat on the edge of the bed and allowed their fingers to weave together.

"We'll be keeping you here overnight, Justin, just to keep an eye on you," the doctor remarked, snapping his metal clipboard shut and hanging it on the end of Justin's bed. "And we've notified your parents. They should be here shortly." He took in the worried set of Justin's features. "We had to contact a family member - it's just standard procedure. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to check on my other patients. I'll look in on you again in a few hours." With that, the middle-aged man turned and left the room.

Brian glanced at Justin. "You don't want your parents here, do you." It was more of a remark than a question.

Justin snorted. "No."

Justin expected the brunet to ask him why, but he was surprised when the other man just nodded and absentmindedly brushed Justin's knuckles with his thumb.

Brian wondered what it was that had happened between Justin and his parents. Not that he didn't know how difficult parents could be - he himself hadn't had to do anything to end up butting heads with his old man. The drunken bastard had hated him since before he was born. Brian didn't doubt that whatever reasons Justin had for not wanting to see his parents were justified, and the blond would tell him his story when he was ready.

A quiet conversation outside the closed door brought Brian out of his musings.

"It's them," Justin affirmed his assumption.

"You want me to go tell them to take a hike?" Brian asked with a hint of a smile.

Justin huffed out a laugh. "No, it's probably time I faced them."

Brian nodded, squeezed Justin's hand and turned towards the opening door. As the younger man's parents stepped into the room, Justin squeezed his hand tight enough that he immediately turned back to him and smiled slightly.

"Try not to break my hand, okay?"

"Sorry. I just wanna get out of here," he replied as his parents came into the room. He eyed them warily, and unconsciously tightened his grip on Brian's hand once again.

"What the fuck is going on?" Justin's father glared at Brian. "And who the hell are you? Get the fuck away from my son!"

"Craig, shut up." Jennifer turned her attention back to Justin. "What did the doctor say?"

"Not much. I'll be okay, just have to stay a couple days," he replied quietly. "They've got me on antibiotics."

"And who's going to pay for this? Because I'm not."

"Then you have no reason to be here." Justin stared at his father coldly, daring him to say anything further, until the older man tore his gaze from his son and turned to his wife.

"I'll be out in the car." Aiming one final glare at his son and the man holding his hand, he turned and left the hospital room, the door making a hollow thud as it closed.

"Fuck," Justin whispered, laying back on the pillows and turning his head so that his warm skin came in contact with the cool fabric of the pillowcase.

"Justin?"

"I'm okay."

"The fuck you are," Brian replied, freeing his hand from Justin's so that he could feel the younger man's forehead. "Maybe we should get your doctor again. Whatever he gave you obviously isn't working."

"It hasn't had enough time to work."

"Justin?"

"Hm?" He shifted his tired gaze back to his mother. Her face was pinched, her eyes slightly red. "I'm really tired, Mom."

"Of course. I just . . . need to know you're okay." She stepped closer to his bed, on the side opposite where Brian stood, and looked down at her son for a moment before shifting her gaze to the brunet, her attention drawn back to her son when he spoke once again.

"I'm fine. Or I will be, at least."

"I'm sure if I talk to your father he'll let you come back home."

"You're kidding, right?" Justin asked with a slight laugh. "I'm not going back. Dad doesn't want me there. I'm the faggot son that embarrasses him, remember? Why would I go back to that?"

"Just what do you plan to do, then? Because clearly you haven't been taking care of yourself or you wouldn't have ended up in the hospital."

Brian reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose with one hand, while with the knuckles of his other hand he lightly felt Justin's cheek for any sign that his fever was beginning to break. He really didn't like the direction that Justin's mother was taking their conversation; in fact, he wanted desperately to jump in and tell her to fuck herself for not standing up to her husband. Instead, he simply rolled his bottom lip into his mouth in an effort to keep silent.

"I'm pretty lucky that this is _all_ that happened to me." He reached over, letting his finger hook onto one of Brian's belt loops. "Brian?"

"Hm?" Brian lightly ran his fingers through Justin's damp hair, taking note, from the corner of his eye, of the way the young man's mother glared at him, her mouth set in a thin line. She crossed her arms over her chest and began lightly tapping her foot against the tiled floor.

"Could you get me some water?"

***

Justin knew that as soon as Brian left the room his mother would descend upon him with questions. That had been his intention . . . to get it over in one fell swoop so she could leave and he could get some sleep.

"So where've you been staying?"

"With Brian. At least since he found me this morning. Before that I just wandered around," he replied tiredly.

"And Brian took you in out of the goodness of his heart? I find that hard to believe."

"He's a nice guy. You don't know him."

"Just how well do you know him, then, Justin?"

"I see you've been listening to Dad."

"I didn't need him to tell me you were gay, Justin - I'd already figured that much out."

"So you're assuming I'm selling my ass for a place to stay?" he asked as Brian pushed open the door and sauntered inside, silently handing him the Aquafina bottle. "Thanks."

"No problem."

"So why don't the two of you tell me what's going on, then?" Jennifer demanded.

"What's been going on is that I found your son, soaking wet, sitting in a phone booth outside my building this morning, practically frozen because of the cold, and with a raging fever. That's what's been going on." He took the bottle Justin extended to him and set it on the table against the wall.

"What kind of person lets someone they don't know live in their home?"

"The kind of person who knows he could have very easily been in the exact same situation." Brian gazed down at Justin for a moment, taking in his pink skin and watery eyes.

"I don't trust you."

"Mom, you don't know him."

"Neither do you!" Her eyes darted from Brian to her son.

"Just go home, Mom, okay?" Justin replied as there was a knock at the door. With a groan, he closed his eyes, letting his head sink further into the pillow. His headache was raging - maybe Brian had been right and the medication wasn't working. Opening his eyes once again, he looked toward the door, and found that Michael was standing there and that, mercifully, his mother was slipping out the door behind him.

"Sorry to interrupt. Brian, I just ran into Mel in the lobby. She was bringing Lindsay in."

"What? Shit. Um . . . it takes a long time, right? The first time?" He ran his fingers through his hair, before giving the back of his neck a final scratch. "Yeah, I think that's what she said. Like, it could be a day or two, I think. Um, okay. Yeah. Is Lindz okay so far?"

"Yeah, so far, so good," Michael offered with his typical dopey grin.

"Okay. Um . . . I'll find her in a little while, then. I'm sure Mel'd prefer that, anyway." He smiled slightly. "Thanks, Mikey." He watched Michael as he left the room, once again leaving Brian and Justin alone.

"Brian? What's going on?"

"Oh fuck. Um, I need to sit down." Brian's lightly tanned skin had taken on a slight pallor and his eyes seemed unfocused.

Justin shifted slightly until he was on the edge of the bed, then wrapped his hand around Brian's cowry-shell covered wrist and lightly tugged the older man down until he was sitting on the bed.

Brian sat silently for a moment before lying down and turning onto his side so that he faced Justin. They slid closer to the center of the bed and to each other, Brian's arm, of its own volition, finding its way around Justin's waist, his cool forehead lightly pressed to Justin's more feverish one.

"Brian?" Justin reached up and gently rested his palm against Brian's cheek

"I'm gonna be a dad."


	4. Out of the Cold

"Huh?"

Brian huffed out a quiet laugh at Justin's dumbfounded expression, absentmindedly leaning his head towards the younger man's touch. "I said I was going to be somebody's father."

Justin blinked, then pursed his lips. "How'd that happen?"

Brian silently stared at the white fabric on Justin's pillow as if in deep thought, then slowly turned his gaze back to Justin.

Justin looked a bit uncomfortable. "Umm, you know, like the traditional way or . . ."

"Fuck no! It was in vitro."

"Oh. And now . . ."

"She's having the baby."

"Shouldn't you be with her?"

"Somehow I think her lover might object." He offered a slightly sad smile. "It would be awesome, though . . . seeing my kid being born." He pressed lightly on Justin's waist. "Just seeing its first moments . . ." He laughed slightly. "I sound like a fucking lesbian. I never even wanted a kid."

"Then why . . ."

"Lindsay's one of my best friends. She really wanted a baby."

"What about you?" Justin reached over and ran his fingertips lightly along Brian's jaw. "How do you feel about it now?"

"It doesn't matter."

"Yes it does."

"Not to anyone else."

"It matters to you, so it matters to me."

"How can it? You barely know me. You have no idea what kind of person I am."

Justin raised an eyebrow. "Well, I think the fact that you took me in from the cold without even being asked -after explicitly being told to fuck off, I might add- says something about your character."

Brian smirked. "What can I say, I like being challenged."

***

The first thing he noticed was how pink the baby was. The second thing was how he fit into the curve of his hands. It was so strange to think that this child, his son, was technically a part of him, that he'd grow up to call him "Dad" and, from what he could tell at this point, strongly resemble him.

"Mel and I can't decide what to name him."

Brian looked up, his eyes meeting Lindsay's. "What are the choices?"

"Abraham, after Mel's grandfather. Or Gus."

"Stunning names," Brian replied sarcastically, rolling his eyes. He looked back down at the baby. How could be possibly choose the name that his son would go by for the remainder of his life? It was so . . . daunting. He sighed, then cradled the baby against his chest with one hand while reaching for Lindsay's bedside phone with the other.

"What the hell are you doing?" Mel demanded.

"What does it look like?"He quickly punched in three digits and waited for an answer.

"Hello?"

"Hey, it's me. Did I wake you?

"No," Justin replied, stifling a yawn. "I was just thinking about falling asleep. So?"

"It's a boy."

"Does he look like you?"

"I think so, yeah."

"Then he's a lucky baby. He must be gorgeous."

"You think?"

"Yeah." Justin yawned again. "So what's his name?"

"It's still up in the air. Abraham or Gus."

"Abraham? I can't imagine you having a kid named Abraham. Gus would be okay, though. At least with that name heï¿½ll be less likely to get his ass kicked once he starts school."

"Good point. Thanks. I'll come see you in a little while. Get some sleep, okay?"

"'Kay. Later."

"Later." Brian set the phone back in its cradle and ignored the questioning looks coming from the horde of lesbians who had surrounded Lindsay's bed. "Gus. It's the only name that doesn't automatically guarantee an ass-kicking, or so I've been told." He maneuvered the baby so he could see him and smiled.

The newly-named infant stared up at him with serious eyes, then raised his tiny hand and touched his father's cheek as if congratulating him on the right choice -the next target was his nose, so Brian couldn't be sure, but it was a nice thought, anyway.

Melanie's suspicious voice forced him to turn his attention back to the adults, "Who did you just talk to?"

Brian sighed. "It really is none of your business, Melanie."

"Oh, I think you asking whoever the hell that was at the other end of the phone what my son's name should be pretty much gives me the right to know!"

"Mel, calm down," Lindsay interrupted her partner, laying her hand on Melanie's shoulder, "I'm sure Brian wouldn't ask something so important of someone unless that person were special." She smiled at Brian. "So how _is_ Michael?"

"It wasn't Michael." He watched for a moment as Gus began working his little mouth and pursing his tiny little pink lips. "I think Sonnyboy's hungry. I guess that's my cue to leave." He leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to his son's cheek. "Be good for your mom, okay? She worked really hard to get you here, so she deserves a break," he whispered, then carefully ran a finger over Gus's nose before handing him back to Lindsay. He pressed a kiss to his friend's forehead. "I'll visit tomorrow, okay?" Then, with a final smile, he pushed his way through the throng of lesbians and exited the room.

***

He should have stayed with the newborn and his mommies. Or maybe he should have stalled and found a hot nurse to fuck in the bathroom. Anything but return to Justin's room at this exact moment.

Brian groaned. It was too late now.

Michael stood next to the door leading to Justin's hospital room with a determined look on his face. Brian knew that look. That look wanted answers now that things had finally settled, and short of duct tape strategically placed on a certain someone's mouth, by God, Brian would have to provide some.

"It's getting late, Mikey. You should go home."

"Not until you tell me what's going on." The shorter man crossed his arms over his chest and glared at Brian with the wounded puppy-dog eyes he seemed to train on the man more than he deserved.

"I don't want to get into this right now, okay?"

"I'm your best friend. I deserve to know why that fucking kid was sleeping in your bed."

"Since when is who I have in my bed any concern of yours?"

"When you take them to the hospital and act like you actually care!" Michael lowered his voice. "You haven't done that with any of the others you've fucked."

Brian let out a frustrated sigh. He was already getting tired of explaining himself, especially when he was practically just as confused about his actions as his best friend. Maybe he cared enough to spend time with Justin because he _hadn't_ fucked the blond, like Michael seemed to assume. That had to be part of it since he sure as hell wasn't so chummy with the men he'd had on all fours panting for more; they had gotten a swift kick to the backside minutes after orgasmic bliss.

"Christ, Michael! Will you try not jumping to conclusions for two seconds? Any of us could have very easily been in the same situation he was in. Out on the streets with no where to go! The only difference between you and him is that when you told your mother you were a fag, she gave you a big hug and practically threw a party. His father kicked him out with just the clothes on his back. So what the fuck do you have to be jealous about?"

"He . . ."

"I don't want to hear it, Mikey, cause I know what you're gonna say and I'm not in the mood to deal with it. Go home." Brian sidestepped the shorter man and leaned against the door to Justin's room, slowly pushing it open. As he neared the bed, he was surprised to see that Justin was still awake. He smiled slightly as the younger man scooted to the side of the bed, then patted the mattress beside him.

"Thought you were going to sleep," Brian said, pulling off his shoes and climbing onto the bed. He lay down and put his head beside Justin's, then reached over and ran his thumb gently over the blond's bottom lip.

"I drifted off for a few minutes." He shifted his head slightly so that it rested against the crook of Brian's neck. "But I wanted to congratulate you in person. You'll be a great dad."

"Right," Brian scoffed. "What the fuck do I know about taking care of someone?"

"You're taking care of me."

"Yeah. But it's not out of any paternal desire to do so."

"Good. I wouldn't want it to be," Justin replied with a slight smile, reaching down and slipping his hand under the hem of Brian's shirt. Then he nuzzled against Brian's neck and pressed a soft kiss to his warm skin before closing his eyes and allowing himself to drift into a peaceful sleep.


End file.
